Most did not care.
One woman cared more than anyone.
And now she was standing beside his pool in a blue swimsuit.
The homeowner narrowed his eyes.
"Are you on the HOA board?"
The woman smiled.
There it was.
Pride.
"I'm the board president."
He nodded slowly.
"That explains a lot."
Her smile vanished.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've gotten your letters."
"They weren't letters. They were notices."
"About rules that don't apply to this property."
She walked closer.
"They absolutely apply."
"They don't."
"The entire street is within Cedar Hills."
"My parcel isn't."
The woman looked toward the house.
"That's what you keep claiming."
"It's what the county records say."
"County records don't override community standards."
The homeowner almost laughed again.
"Yes, they actually do."
She stepped closer.
"You've been hostile from the day you moved in."
"I've never spoken to you before."
"You refused our landscaping requirements."
"I don't belong to your HOA."
"You installed that grill without design approval."
"I don't belong to your HOA."
"You changed the side gate."
"I don't belong to your HOA."
Her jaw tightened.
"You see? That's exactly the attitude."
The homeowner took a slow breath.
He was still trying to understand how the conversation had progressed from trespassing to landscaping.
He pointed toward the fence.
"Climb back over."
The woman blinked.
"What?"
"You came in that way."
He pointed again.
"Go back."
She stared at him.
"I'm not climbing over that again."
"Then use the side gate."
She looked toward it.
The gate was locked from inside.
The homeowner walked toward it.
"I'll open it."
The woman stepped in front of him.
"No."
He stopped.
"No?"
"I'm using the pool."
He stared.
She folded her arms.
"I came here to swim."
"You climbed over my fence to swim in my pool?"
"It's not your pool."
The homeowner looked toward the house again.
He wondered whether perhaps the heat had pushed the entire day into some kind of hallucination.
Then he noticed something beyond the fence.
Movement.
Someone standing on the other side.
A second woman.
Only her head was visible through a narrow gap between boards.
She held a phone.
Recording.
The homeowner looked back at the HOA president.
She saw him notice.
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
This was not spontaneous.
"Did you bring someone with you?"
The woman turned.
"No."
"There's somebody filming through my fence."
"People are allowed to record."
"From your side of the property?"
"Public sidewalk."
"There isn't a public sidewalk behind that fence."